At War With A Narcissist — Poetry

Clouds of thunder doom and gloom;

Smell the imminent storm.

I feel his presents; he will be here soon;

From the devil he is born.

Sheltered in a house of glass;

Wide eyes brimming with tears.

No where to run for he is fast;

My body trembles in terrored fear.

When day light breaks; he runs and hides;

The light now helps me see.

He’s nothing more than a coward in disguise;

My courage made him flee.

 

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